About a year ago we got the urge to raise chickens. After much discussion and a lot of research, we decided that four hens would be the way to go. We figured that would give us plenty of fresh eggs for our family of four, and we’d each get to name a chicken. So, we made the trek to our local feed store and selected our girls: 1 Rhode Island Red, 1 Black Star, and 2 Cochins.
Did I say four chicks? We ended up getting an extra one “for the whole family,” as my daughter put it. A cute little yellow Delaware Hen. We named her Peep.
So, while Cordelia, Augusta, Olga, Georgia, and Peep were catching rays under a sun lamp in a box, I proceeded to build a coop. Which I should have done BEFORE the chicks arrived, but somehow the deadline had crept up on me. Now that they were living in my office, things were starting to get real.
Almost done. And just in time, because the chickens were beginning to jump out of their box and explore the office. Which is a little too gross to describe, so I won’t go into detail. To keep them entertained, the kids took them outside to play in the fresh air.
Finally the coop was finished. We situated it just off the front porch and fenced in a nice big area around it so the now-teenaged hens would have plenty of space to roam.
Soon we noticed something. Chickens are VERY entertaining. They climb trees. They take dust baths and kick dirt up on themselves. They jump up in the air for bugs. Sometimes they would fly the coop and come strolling up onto the porch.
Even more fascinating was that they had distinct personalities, which the kids were quick to pick up on. Before long each hen had her own narrative. Peep was “the queen.” Cordelia was “the nice one.” Olga was kind of haughty. And so on.
Soon we had turned the porch chairs around to face the coop and were spending a lot of time watching the chickens. We had our tea out there, we ate our lunch out there, and in the evening we sat out there and watched them put themselves to bed. It was like having a mini-series unfolding right off our porch. And it was completely addicting.
Finally, the season cliff-hanger: a couple of the hens began singing the egg song, a loud squawking noise which means that chicken labor is about to commence. We fluffed up the nesting box and waited anxiously. At last:
Our first egg! We scrambled it, divided it 4 ways, and pronounced it the best we had ever eaten. And soon our original goal was reached. We had 5 laying hens who were happily providing enough eggs for our family. Which should have been the end of the story. Except it wasn’t. Pretty soon my daughter was jonesing for baby chicks. So we got a couple more.
And a few more after that.
Finally, it became clear that I had to build a bigger coop.
Fast forward to the present. We have 29 hens and a rooster. Because we like variety, most of the chickens are different colors and sizes. We collect 15-20 eggs a day, which we sell locally or give away to friends. And we still sit out on the porch to watch the show, which is often a comedy and occasionally a tragedy, but always entertaining.
This is not a turkey, nor have we pre-plucked a chicken for Thanksgiving. This is a Naked Neck hen named Billie. And baby, she was born this way!
P.S. My new-found love of all things chicken inspired a t-shirt design: “Peace Chicken.” In case you’re wondering, we screenprint it on baby onesies and toddler tees and sell it in the Jupiter’s Child Store.
